No infrigement is intended on the characters belonging to Stephen Summers & Universal. R.Campbell, E.Hammond, H.Furborough and N.Waters are entities born of my own imagination. No money is being made from this story, it's for enjoyment purposes only.

CAPTAIN OF HIS SOUL by Marcher

gama39@austarmetro.com.au

PG 13

CHAPTER 12 ~ When sorrows come, they come not in single spies, but in battalions. (Hamlet, Shakespeare)

It seemed to Rick that time had been held in some peculiar form of suspension since Jonathan ran for help. Now, with

his family safe within the Fort walls, he stole a glance at his watch and realized only an hour had passed since he fell

to his knees beside his unconscious wife. Strange how distorted the world can become when you're trying to swallow

your heart while dealing with the consequences of your own misguided pride and strangled anguish!

Nodding his head in thanks to Jonathan, O'Connell suddenly found himself forced to quell an amused grunt at his brother-

in-law's response. Jonathan had quickly swapped one nervous posture for another as he held up his hand to ward off the

praise, insisting he had done nothing which deserved any special recognition. Once again, Evelyn's brother had proved

his salt in a crisis and it was becoming clear to Rick just how much he owed this man. This deceptive, ignoble prankster

had again shed his skin to reveal his true worth and had arrived back at Evelyn's side within minutes of them finding her.

Whatever he had offered for the car, or whether he had stolen it, Rick was sure he would never know. Jonathan's policy

has always been one of 'no questions answered'. It was not surprising either, to find Ross awaiting their arrival outside

the fort quarters. This wasn't the first time Rick was left curious as to the extent of Jonathan's connections and he knew it

wouldn't be the last. For all his shades of gray, Jonathan was first and foremost Evelyn's brother and Rick could not think

of a single time when he had let her down. Looking over at Jonathan staring anxiously into space, Rick felt a sense of

shame wash over him as he realized it was difficult to shower himself with the same praise.

Jonathan tilted his glass slightly towards Rick in a languid fashion and commented dryly, "We seem to be drowning our

sorrows quite regularly with this stuff of late."

Rick twisted his own glass, "Humph!" Instead of drinking it, he turned his gaze towards the bedroom door. The rich liquid

continued to roll back and forth in the glass as he pondered, "You know what I can't take right now?"

"Being jolted back to your senses?"

The American placed his drink on the thick armrest and treated that statment with the scornful look it deserved. He leaned

forward and dragged his hands over his face, firmly rubbing the tips of his fingers into his eyes. He released a deep,

frustrated growl before speaking, "Being made to sit here and wait! Not knowing what Ross is promising to keep quiet!"

"Will it matter any?" Jonathan lowered his eyes and stared at his shoes, "We both know the truth."

Rick remained painfully silent. Alex slept in the cot beside his chair and he reached over to stroke the boys head, lightly

tangling his fingers in his son's blonde locks. Without taking his eyes from the boy, he answered Jonathan with a deliberate

calm, "All I need is a name."

"I take it from your shared history together, our diligent Dr. Campbell won't provide you with that in case you end up digging

a nice big hole for yourself. In all truth Rick, I doubt Evie would tell you for the same reason."

"Maybe." This time Rick looked his brother-in-law directly in the eye, "But she'll tell you."

~~~

Haris Furborough sat in the semi-shade offered by the tattered awning of the backstreet brothel, watching a few of his fellow

Legionnaires hawking their meagre belongings to the locals. Behind them, the remainder of the Regiment continued

dismantling their tents in preparation for the move North. There was less than four hours now before they left Cairo and he

was feeling the first tinges of disappointment that O'Connell had not called him to task over that little wench.

He glanced in the direction of Fort Brydon, catching sight of it's corner towers above the line of roof tops and smirked.

Dropping his eyes to street level, he squinted against the glare but saw no sign of the man he waited for. He scoffed, then

swallowed another mouthful of rum. Perhaps his victory was complete after all? He envisioned the boney girl still crawling

about on all fours somewhere behind a cemetary wall and O'Connell too lame from his injury to set about searching for her. It

was all too easy!

A thought tempted him of seeking out the ex-Legionnaire, catching him unawares and finishing what had started between

them weeks ago. However, he was shaken from his murderous cogitation by one of the brothel's beauties as she sashayed by

him and perched herself against the table. Furborough ignored her bluntly and strained his neck to see around her. The girl

leaned in for attention only to be shoved backwards with the force of his hand. "Just bring the booze, slut! I've never had to

pay for my pleasures...and I don't intend to start now!"

The girl swung her arm to slap him and he grabbed it fiercely, twisting her wrist and bringing her to her knees with the pain.

She struggled vainly against his grip, all the while his cocky laugh settled too closely to her cheek. He hung over her as he

forced her lower against the dirt. She squealed! Cursing and crying, he took malicious delight in her distreess until he was

pulled to his feet by the back of his hair! The stinging at the base of his neck automatically severed his grip on the girl and a

cacophony of shrieks and abuse followed as Haris was shoved, staggering into the street. Once he found his feet, the

Legionnaire turned and reached for his pistol but stopped at the sight of three burly men, each brandishing hooked daggers

which reflected the glints of the sun. Outnumbered by the harlot's security, Furborough spread his fingers wide over his

pistol's handle and extended his arm wide to show he had not drawn his weapon. He sneered at the men, then saw a sly look

of satisfaction on the girls face and spat in her direction. This earned him another growling advance from her minders and

Furborough spread both arms to signify an angry surrender and slowly turned his back to walk away.

~~~

"Go in 'n' see ya sister." Ross anounced wearily to Jonathan. He had emerged into the sitting room still wiping his hands on a

small white towel, but looked directly at neither Rick nor Jonathan.

"Me?" Jonathan shot a look of surprise to O'Connell before standing, "First?"

"I'm only the messenger. It's you she's asked for."

Jonathan hesitated but Rick waved him on. This is more or less what he had expected. Seeing Jonathan first was probably less

threatening for her and it required fewer answers. He could understand that, right now, a brother's shoulder was safer to cling to

than a husband's. "It's alright Jonathan. Go see how she is." As Carnahan retreated to his sister, Rick did manage to catch a

glimpse of his wife buried beneath the covers before the door clicked shut. She had her faced turned away, effectively hiding

any trace of emotion and he had at least hoped to catch her eye. But the moment passed too quickly and he trained his vision

on Ross' grave face.

The world weary doctor kept his hands locked firmly together behind his back and paced slowly towards the window. Holding

his back to O'Connell, Ross spoke in a voice low and serious. For Rick, the news was just as he had anticipated...and worse.

Without the use of shock or spectacle, Dr. Campbell delivered each and every fact of Evelyn's trauma and condition. Just as

Evelyn's initial preference of Jonathan over himself was not really a surprise, neither was hearing definate confirmation of her

rape. It didn't take a doctor to know from sight what had happened. Still, terrible as this news was, it didn't so much fuel Rick's

lust for revenge than it reinforced it. It was what followed that caused the ex-Legionnaire to hurl his glass across the room! The

tiny vessel shattered into a thousand pieces staining the wall with alcohol and stirring Alex into a fit of tears. For an instant Rick

looked helplessly at his small son, torn between comforting him and the fear of his own sorrow if he did. He found himself unable

to do nothing but pace short steps while his hand switched from rubbing his mouth to dropping down in a tight fist and back

again! He looked again at Alex and saw Ethan! Tiny Ethan! Little more than a month in his grave, yet he would be his last. He

could hear Ross droning in the distance about the prolonged, brutal attack on Evelyn, each word a dagger! Her still frail state

after the birth combined with this had ruined her! She had been robbed of all her, their, unborn children and even now her own

well-being was in jeopardy! His body tensed and knotted! His breath came in short bursts and his chest felt as though it would

collapse. There were no words for rage such has his! There was no punishment that would compensate this crime...but there

was one which would satisfy!

Still on his feet and pacing, Rick looked at the closed bedroom door trying desperately to see through it. He started long strides

towards his wife but was abruptly halted by Ross' hand to his shoulder which swung him about sharply! "Not now, son. Not yet."

Rick growled. He dragged his hands down his face, revealing to Ross a twisted expression of anger and confusion. He snatched

his guns from their hook behind the door and demanded of Ross, "WHO?!!"

Helping himself to the whisky to avoid O'Connell's stare, Ross answered cautiously, "I don't know."

"Dammit, Ross! She must have told you something!"

Turning fully to his friend, Ross paced words slowly and clearly, "Look! She's no fool! She knows exactly what ya'll do if told;

and exactly what'll happen if ya do it!"

Rick favoured his injured leg the few paces it took for him to reach the doctor's side. His hands shook furiously as he poured

himself another drink, then another. When he'd drained the glass a second time, he eyed Ross intently, "I know anyway!"

Knowing his friend of old too well, Ross sighed heavily and walked to the window where he stood staring into the street below.

The crime against O'Connell's wife was an abominable one and the doctor couldn't bring himself to begrudge the American his

revenge. If the truth be told, he hadn't expected anything less from his younger friend. Ross began to speak steadily, "Well, if it

be that same bloke we dragged in off t'street alongside you those weeks back, then it'd be best if ya shake that useless leg of

yours and find him quicksmart!" Ross turned, facing O'Connell with acceptance of what he was about to do, "The Legion is

pulling up camp as we speak. It's my guess they'll be away by dawn tomorrow."

Grateful for Ross' leave, Rick heaved a breath before speaking, "You know I can't let this go."

"Aye. It would seem that way. But do me one favour."

"What's that?"

"Shoot from a distance, would ya!" The stout doctor waved a furious hand at O'Connell's freshly opened wound and chided

him, "It's obvious ya haven't taken one iota of notice 'bout what I've told ya 'bout lookin' after that leg of yours! If ya make it any

worse than it is now I'm gonna amputate the bloody thing! Got it!"

Unable to stop a small smile creeping over his lips, Rick pushed his last gun firmly into it's holster and acknowledged his friend's

offhand advice, "Got it!"

Just before O'Connell disappeared into the hall, Ross called after him, "Do it quickly!"

Without a hint of hesitation, Rick looked over his shoulder before vanishing, "No!"

The door closed and Ross again retreated to the window waiting to see the American make his way onto the street. He watched

as O'Connell walked from view, knowing he wouldn't look up to see if he was watching. The cantankerous boy had always been

lurking just below the surface of the man, but this time he had set out with good reason. He also knew he would have to wait until

Rick returned from this grisly business and then he would have to hide him from the hangman's noose.

But first, he needed someone to quiet this child!

~~~

"Stay put. I'll go and see what the matter is." Jonathan pressed a gentle hand to his sister's shoulder to quash her determined,

yet feeble attempt to get out of bed. "I'm sure everything's fine."

"Rick knows!" Pushing her cheek into the pillow unable to quell a flood of emotion, Evelyn sobbed, "I'm sure he knows!"

"Now, now. He probably just fell over that gammy leg of his and knocked something down and woken Alex. It'll be fine."

His offer of solace did nothing to soothe his sister's panic, and his heart split clean down the middle when she succumbed to

another coughing fit. Jonathan leaned over her and gently stroked her back until the attack subsided, wondering how on earth

she would even begin to recover from this. The last few months had been too tragic for words, and now this! He kept his hand

pressed on her back and whispered, "It'll all work out, Evie. You'll see." She squeezed her eyes shut and Jonathan looked away

to battle the tears which now threatened him. He rose slowly and crept towards the door. Poking his head through the narrow

gap he had allowed himself, he found only the Yorkshireman hopelessly bouncing a red-faced, screaming Alex on his knee.

"Need any help out here?"

Ross barked instantly, "Not with shoving that sarcasm straight back down ya throat, I don't! But if ya be any better at silencin'

this beast than I am, step up now before I find a potion to knock 'im out!"

Careful not to open the door any further than necessary, Jonathan angled himself into the room and clicked the door shut.

"Where's his father?" he whispered.

Ross held the boy out at arm's length and stepped back immediately once his fellow Englishman took control of the situation.

The child ceased his noise almost instantly and Ross scoffed in disbelief at the youngster's sudden change of disposition!

Settling Alex's head over his shoulder, Jonathan whispered a little louder, "Where's Rick?"

Still staggered by the child's reaction, Ross looked appreciatively at his glass and swilled another mouthful before answering.

The warming brew revealed it's pleasure through a grimace, "Aah!" Badly disguising a scowl at the toddler, Ross straightened

himself and said, "He's stepped out."

"Stepped out?!"

"Lower your voice, man!" Both men listened for any sound from Evelyn's room before Ross continued, "He's gone to claim his

pound of flesh."

"So you told him after all?"

"Not that he didn't already know the most of it!"

Jonathan shifted Alex on his shoulder and pressed the doctor further, "So what do I say to Evie if she asks for him?"

"Has she asked for him?"

"No, but..."

"Then don't worry til she does!"

Jonathan shook his head in exasperation, "She's bound to start asking for him soon! Or at least asking about him."

Setting his glass on the table, Ross patted Jonathan on the shoulder, "With any luck she'll sleep soon. It's possible he'll be

back before she wakes up." The doctor began to lower himself into the chair then stopped himself to ask, "Does Mrs. O'Connell

need help, or was it just the..." he wiggled a finger in Alex's direction and Jonathan finished the thought for him.

"No, no. It was just Alex crying. I'll take him back in with me, shall I?"

"Please do."

"I take it you'll be waiting here until Rick gets back?"

"I 've a feelin' I'll be here most of the night! And beyond!"

Jonathan nodded solemly before taking the few short steps to Evelyn's door. Reaching for the handle, he stopped and offered

his thoughts to Ross. "You know he'll probably never admit it, but he appreciates everything you've done. And me as well."

he winked at the doctor, "Not bad for a Yorkshireman."

"Be off with ya! And pray he gets out of this one better than he did the last!"

A knowing look settled in Jonathan's eyes and he stepped silently into the bedroom.

Evelyn lifted her head as he entered and held her arms out for Alex. Jonathan tilted and placed the boy gently beside her and

they immediately clung to each other. Evelyn quickly slipped into the safe and familiar role of comforting her son, hushing

him and stroking the back of his head. Jonathan watched, amazed and a little relieved, as he saw his sister willfully hide her

own despair under a blanket of concern for her son. It was apparent to him that she would remain in this temporary shelter as

long as it was afforded to her, and he couldn't blame her for that. It was respite, no matter how small.

Still wrapped in each other's warmth, mother and son closed their eyes and Jonathan deftly slipped himself into a chair to keep

watch as they slept.

end chapter